


Dark Waters

by Sookiestark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:55:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Theon floating in the water as the Silence drifts away.. Directly after Season 7 episode 2





	Dark Waters

He was drifting amid the darkness. There was the occasional mast burning gently, as it settled into the black waters beneath. The light only accentuated the darkness, as if it was more dark because of the stray bits of burning light. It was bittersweet to watch them hiss into the watery depths. 

In the dark, he had watched the Silence drift away with all that he cherished, all his reasons for living. 

He waited for himself to let go to the wood and sink beneath the waters like all the good men that had died today. To stop the guilt in his head. To stop the anger and hatred he felt. To stop the shame. Just let go Theon. Let go and disappear. Disappear for good. 

What is dead may never die….

Is that what he was... so cursed that he would never have rest? He would walk on his ruined feet, dragging his wrecked and wasted body around for all time. He didn’t deserve peace and that is what the dark waters represented. So still. So dark.

It was as dark as his first nights in Winterfell, when he thought his father had given up on him and traded him, as dark as Lord Stark’s hair, darker than blood dried on the floors he would wash after Ramsay was done playing with his toys, dark like the sails of Euron’s dread ship.

Was he so craven that he would not let go? Surely, he had faced worse than death. He had watch Ramsay cut him away, piece by piece, until nothing remained and he had watched his own honor cut away by his need to be his father’s son, an ironborn. The King of the reavers and rapers and a man to betray his best friend. What honor was in that?

He looked at his skin in the water, it was white tinged with pink. Still, blood pushed through his veins Still, he breathed. Surely, he would have the strength to stop this blood from keeping him alive, pink like Sansa’s cheeks had been that night outside Winterfell when all was lost and she rested her head on his shoulder, like she had missed him, like he was loved, like he was worthy of love. Pink like Asha’s lips when she licked them while appraising whores in Mereen, pink like the dress his mother wore when she waved from the shore, as he sailed away to Winterfell, a hostage to a foreign land.

Even his body was a traitor to him. It wouldn’t stop just because he wanted it. He would have to stop it. Yet..

What is dead may never die..

What is dead may never die..

His mind flashed to Yara and what horrible things were happening to her right now. He pushed the terrible thoughts down and remembered that Sansa had reached Castle Black. She and Jon had retaken Winterfell and Ramsay Bolton was dead. There might be hope in the deep darkness. After all, he had saved Sansa from Winterfell. He would have taken her all the way to the Wall. 

He hears his sister’s voice in his mind, the teasing and the joy in it. “I need you by my side. You survived, You survived.” 

There have been many night as dark and cold as this one, where he lay feverish, bleeding, despised, broken, hungry. He had come back each time. Every terrible thing done to him, he had always come back. He had always survived. 

 

What was dead might never die….

He would survive this too. His sister needed him. He would find her and figure it out. What could Euron do to him now? He had died years ago. What was dead can never die. Now, he was deathless, undefeatable. He would get himself out of these dark waters and figure out a way to rescue Yara. What had he to fear? He was beyond death.


End file.
